Caledonia
by Mainecoon
Summary: A vignette about why Remus Lupin really left Hogwarts, and where he went. Please note, "Caledonia" is another name for Scotland. Written in one of my more poetic moods.


**Caledonia  
**_  
Inspired by the song "Caledonia" by Dougie MacLean****_  
  
  
  
I don't know if you can see  
the changes that have come over me  
in these last few days I've been afraid  
that I might drift away  
so I've been telling old stories, singing songs  
that make me think about where I came from  
and that's the reason why I seem  
so far away today  
  
Remus Lupin stood on the balcony outside his room watching the moon rise. A whispering wind tenderly ruffled his unkempt chestnut-brown hair, prematurely streaked with gray from too many nights of watching the same moon with anxious eyes. By his feet, a beat-up old suitcase tied closed with rough string sat waiting eagerly for another long journey. Remus stared at the sky, but his mind was further off than even the deepest reaches of space.  
  
A soft voice interrupted his thoughts. "Where will you go?" Albus Dumbledore asked. Remus looked aside at the aging headmaster of Hogwarts, not surprised at his sudden appearance.   
  
"I don't know," he said-but his eyes told Dumbledore that the weary traveler knew where he was going better than he knew where he had been.   
  
"You're welcome to come back if you-"  
  
"No." There was a note of finality in his voice that would not be argued with. "I can't go back," he added in a gentler tone. "You understand what I am, sir, but there are endless others who won't, no matter what either of us tells them." He smiled wistfully. "Sometimes I wonder if it isn't better that way."  
  
"Don't say that, Remus." Dumbledore put his hand on the young teacher's shoulder. "There's no danger in being different."  
  
Remus fixed his eyes on the moon and said nothing-not because he had no response, but because he had far too much he could say: A werewolf isn't just "different", it's dangerous; different may not be bad, but it sure as Hell is terrifying; You'd never believe me if I told you what I'd give to be the same as everyone else again; what is it to be different anyway? When does one cross the line between different and freakish?  
  
Dumbledore turned back to go inside. "You're always welcome here, Remus-as a teacher or as a friend. Never forget that." And he was gone.  
  
**I have moved and kept on moving  
proved the points that I needed proving  
lost the friends that I needed losing  
found others on the way   
I have kissed the ladies, left them crying  
stolen dreams, yes there's no denying  
I have traveled hard, sometimes with conscience flying  
somewhere with the wind**  
  
A few minutes later, Remus also turned from the silvery sight of the moon and went inside. This place held so many memories for him-too many, it seemed. If he stayed longer, it seemed he would be swallowed alive by the weight of the thoughts that impregnated his mind at every sight, every sound. Even walking down a corridor unfroze a river of memories.  
  
Indeed it was time to move on. Again. And what had he learned from all this? What had he done to justify his existence? Saved a life, discovered a truth or two. Or three. A silent peal of laughter rippled through the young man's heart as he thought of Sirius. His best friend-not guilty! Free, as Remus had always known was right. Oh, that was a thing to laugh for. And Peter a traitor. In retrospection, how laughable it was that anybody had ever believed otherwise. Yes, the Dark powers had effectively thrown wool over everybody's eyes.   
  
As for James-he lived again in his son, Harry. The ripple of laughter flew to Remus's hands, flickered behind his eyes in the base of his nose and found expression in a characteristic chuckle as he remembered the adventures the Marauders used to have, and those that awaited Harry. What times those were-breaking every rule in the book, flirting shamelessly with disaster (and girls), running after life-threatening dangers then fleeing like rabbits when teachers reared their fuming heads.   
  
Those were the times…  
  
**Now I'm sitting here before the fire  
the empty room, the forest choir  
the flames that couldn't get any higher  
they've withered, now they've gone  
but I'm steady thinking, my way is clear  
and I know what I will do tomorrow  
when the hands have shaken and the kisses flown  
well I will disappear**  
  
As he drifted into the realms of sleep and mercifully pleasant dreams, thoughts of the impending journey swirled in Remus's imagination. The shadowy wings of Dread brushed against him, threatening him with nightmarish visions-but the fire, enchanted by the safety of the walls around it, bled warmth onto the wizard and frightened his misgivings with the echo of a lullaby. Remus let his head droop, his hands rested in his lap, his brows knit into an expression of sad peace, and he slept. As the night wore on, the fire grew dim and unsteady; but only because its strength had gone into the young man's heart.   
  
The next morning, Remus was more sure of his way than he had ever been. Any lingering doubts were dispelled when the first rays of the sun reached down to stroke his pale cheeks and stir him fully into wakefulness. With a sigh, he turned his palm up to the light as if to return its caress. He tossed his head, throwing his hair out of his face, and reached to pick up his tattered suitcase. After casting a final glance around his room, he left it-fully knowing, even hoping, that he might never see it again.   
  
**let me tell you that I love you  
and I think about you all the time  
Caledonia you're calling me and now I'm going home  
but if I should become a stranger  
you know that it would make me more than sad  
Caledonia's been everything I've ever had**  
  
Remus Lupin stood on the platform waiting for the train. A whispering wind tenderly ruffled his unkempt chestnut-brown hair, prematurely streaked with gray from too many nights of watching the same moon with anxious eyes. By his feet, a beat-up old suitcase tied closed with rough string sat waiting eagerly for another long journey. Remus stared at the tracks, but his mind was further off than even the end of the last line.  
  
A soft voice interrupted his thoughts. "Where will you go?" Albus Dumbledore asked. Remus looked aside at the aging headmaster of Hogwarts, not surprised at his sudden appearance.   
  
"Home," he said. Dumbledore met his shining gaze and saw the truth in his words.   
  
"You're welcome to come back if you-"  
  
"No." There was a note of finality in his voice that would not be argued with. "I can't go back," he added in a gentler tone. "You understand what I am, sir, but there are endless others who won't, no matter what either of us tells them." He smiled wistfully. "Sometimes I wonder if it isn't better that way."  
  
"Don't say that, Remus." Dumbledore put his hand on the young teacher's shoulder. "There's no danger in being different."  
  
Remus fixed his eyes on the tracks and said, with a half-smile cascading over his tired features, "I know."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "You're always welcome with us, Remus-as a teacher or as a friend. Never forget that."  
  
"I won't." Remus turned to face his teacher and mentor. He mirrored the old mage's smile, though tears sparkled in his eyes. "But you know I won't be coming back. I'm going home…"  
  
"Where is Home, Remus?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Caledonia." Remus answered with an accent mimicking his mother's rich Scottish accent. "That's Home. Far across the waters, amidst the roots I grew from, upon the soil that bore me, upon the rocks that lent me their strength…" Again he laughed for the pure joy of anticipation, and drew his sleeve over his face to wipe away the tears that fell there, pulled free by the inescapable calling of his mother's homeland-a place he had seen only in faded photographs, but a place that held him with as real a grip as his mother once had.   
  
Then, as a screeching whistle announced the arrival of the train, Dumbledore pulled Remus into a tight embrace. "Then go, and take my blessings with you!" he said, his voice thick with joy. Remus could only nod as he picked up his suitcase. From the window of the train compartment, he waved farewell to his friend, his teacher, the man who had given him the king's ransom of a merciful second chance, forgiving him for the cards fate had dealt him. As the train station faded from view, he leaned back into the cushioned back of the bench. How rich and full Life could be! How tragic, and how perfect all at once! Remus knew in his heart of hearts that further adventured awaited him, that the path he walked in life might very easily lead him back to his childhood sanctuary… But that was in an unforeseeable future. For now, he had but to experience Life as it led him home.  
  
…  



End file.
